


How to Cure Hiccups

by webcricket



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 17:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10791513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket
Summary: 1st Cas-iversary drabble request by @sassyspn67 (okay, I don’t know if it was an actual request, but it was a great ask and I ran with it and wrote you something) – “Imagine Castiel saying he loves you without thinking.” Spoiler alert - the cure for hiccups? Yeah, it’s fluff. All the fluff. And a blue-eyed angel.





	How to Cure Hiccups

Pausing at the kitchen threshold, you reflexively clutched your abdomen, pressing a palm to the doorframe for support, muscles tensing in preparation for the involuntary spasm you sensed was about to rack your body. “Hic!” you squeaked loudly, again unsuccessful at trying to stifle the hiccups which had plagued you for nearly an hour. Groaning annoyance, you wearily leaned your forehead against the door.

“Y/N!” Castiel instantly rose from his seat at the table, swiftly striding to your side to grasp your arm and guide you safely down the few stairs into the room, “What’s wrong?”

You peered up miserably into his ocean blue eyes, noting the shades of concern for your well-being churning in their shimmering depths. “I’m fi-,” lurching forward, you grasped at his coat lapels for balance, balling up the tan fabric in tight fists, “hic!”

“What’s happening to you?” Cas’ normally gruff tone notched up an octave, betraying his deepening alarm. He led you over to the bench, fingers clasping around your shoulders, gently pushing down to encourage you to sit.

“Hic,” you moaned in answer, acquiescing to his physical direction, slumping into a pathetic heap on the wooden slats.

Cas dropped to one knee, his calloused palm reaching out to cup your cheek, tilting your chin up to anxiously study your harried features.

“Hiccups,” you managed to choke out, blinking weakly, focus straying from the angel’s troubled sapphire eyes beneath a furrowed brow to the comforting hand lightly resting on your knee.

“Tell me what you need,” he squeezed your knee soothingly.

“Hic!” was all you could offer in reply. Closing your eyes, you feebly pointed in the direction of the sink.

“Water?”

You nodded emphatically.

Cas hurried to the sink, filling a glass to the brim.

“And su-hic-gar,” you croaked.

The angel brought you the glass, taking your hand in his and closing your fingers around the smooth surface, rivulets of the clear cool liquid running over the edge of the glass to wet your fingers, “How much sugar?”

You sucked in a sharp breath, holding it until your lungs felt as though they might burst, finally gasping, “Spoonful.”

Cas left your side only a moment, returning with a tarnished silver spoon, dipping it into the bag of sugar with trembling fingers.

“Hic!”

He held the heaping spoon to your parted lips, carefully thrusting the utensil into your mouth, sliding it out when your lips closed around it.

You chugged half the glass of water, flushed cheeks puffing out, tiny specks of white sugar crystals glittering your plumped lips, eyes watering as you struggled to swallow.

Cas peeled the sloshing glass out of your white knuckled grip. Setting it down with a clank on the table behind you, he returned to his half-kneeling position at your feet, questioningly peering into your strained countenance, “Did it work?”

You inhaled few tentative small relieved breaths, “I think so. Thanks Cas.”

The tightly wound muscles of the angel’s shoulders visibly relaxed, “And you’re okay?”

“Yeah, a little sore,” you rubbed the fatigued slant of your chest and belly, “but I’ll be - HIC!” Head dismally lolling backward, you groaned.

“That sounds like a killer case of the hiccups,” Dean noted nonchalantly as he entered the room, chuckling to himself.

“Hic!” you convulsed violently, too tired to try to suppress the mini diaphragmatic seizures any longer.

Cas shot Dean an incensed glare, “Killer? How is this a laughing matter?”

Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head, “I mean killer as in serious. Seriously annoying. You know, like angels who take everything you say literally.”

Cas narrowed his eyes derisively at his friend, “Dean, save your tedious insults about my lack of understanding regarding the complex nuances of human communication for later. Can’t you see Y/N is in distress.”

“Hic,” you meekly agreed.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Dean held up his hands in surrender. His green eyes surveyed the table, gathering you’d already employed the traditional tried and true water and sugar cure without success. He could only assume you’d also tried holding your breath. He shrugged, “Sometimes it helps if you do or say something extremely shocking.”

Cas’ steely countenance softened, he knew precisely what to do. Shifting his regard solely back to your desperately pleading expression, he gazed intently into your eyes. He did not have to think about his words, nor did he hesitate to utter them, “Y/N, I love you.”

“W-what?” You sputtered, eyes shooting wide, “What did you say?”

The angel looked at your lap, picking up your hand, turning it over in his own several times, intertwining your fingers together before again meeting your searching gaze. A rare smile traced the pout of his lips, “I didn’t just say it, I meant it. I love you.”

“What’d I miss?” Sam drifted into the room, breathless from a run, gathering from the shocked gape of his brother’s jaw that something major had just gone down. He followed Dean’s gaze to the table just in time to see you throw yourself into Cas’ open arms, planting your sugar-coated lips firmly to the angel’s as he spun you both in a circle.

“Nothing much,” Dean smirked, green eyes twinkling, “You know, just Cas curing Y/N’s hiccups.”


End file.
